


A Little More

by misha_anon



Series: A Rustle of Wings [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Submissive/Bottom Castiel, Wing Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-05
Updated: 2013-06-05
Packaged: 2017-12-14 01:33:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/831173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misha_anon/pseuds/misha_anon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean pulls Castiel's feathers, Castiel really likes it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little More

Castiel is never quite sure how he ends up here every time. Maybe he'd ask if he could form words, or thoughts, or if he could even remember to breath. Not that _here_ is bad. Quite the contrary, here is safe and warm and more than pleasant and if all he can do is moan inarticulately and shiver to the tips of his toes as Dean's fingers slide through his feathers in a slow, tangled drag.. well, _here_ is as good a place as any.

"You like that?"

Dean's voice pulls him back momentarily from the haze of pleasure; Dean's fist tightens on a handful of feathers and he pulls too hard and not hard enough and Castiel's body arches as he follows the hand that controls him like a marionette.

"I.."

It's barely more than a strangled breath, pushed out by the warmth that's settled in the middle of Castiel and growing into something hot and dirty that twists in his stomach as he turns his head to try to nuzzle Dean's face. Dean's free hand at the small of of Castiel's back feels like his only tether to reality, pulling his chest to Dean's. Another sharp yank of feathers tightens Castiel's body in a shudder, a whimper caught in his throat behind a gasp.

"Dean!"

His teeth graze the curve of Dean's jaw, lips pressing to suck at the sweat salt taste and revel in the roughness of stubble as his hands clench at Dean's waist. His wings jerk as his cock brushes against Dean's thigh. For once they managed to get out of their clothes before it came to this. For once it feels somehow different, less frenzied and much, much hotter. Castiel feels like he's on fire as he grinds shamelessly, the head of his cock sliding in his own precome against Dean's skin.

"Cas, you're killin' me." Dean's voice is hoarse, trailing off into a groan that finds its way to the tender skin just below Castiel's ear. His fingers are sure, relentless as he pulls Cas' feathers again and again, now a gentle tug and now a twisting jerk. Castiel is a whimpering, shivering mess of sensation, chest sliding hot and wet on Dean's as he searches for relief.. any relief.. from the now two handfuls of feathers that Dean is pulling steadily harder. His mouth is dry, need scratching frantically at the base of his skull.

"Dean, _please_."

Please stop, please do it again, please scratch this itch, please, please, _please_. Castiel is disoriented, grabbing at Dean's body as he shifts and moves away. He can't stop Dean, can't think past the fingers still teasing and tugging at the longest feathers. He is pliant in Dean's hands, wings stretching wide as he allows his shoulders to be pushed to the floor without a struggle. He pulls his wings back in just slightly, feels the way they quiver and tickle at his sides. 

He's panting, chest heaving with the great effort of every breath, then forgetting to breathe at all when one of Dean's hands slides down the curve of his back with a light drag of nails. Suddenly, Dean isn't touching him at all and he growls in protest. Even before the sound dies away, Dean's fingers are back, one hand stroking over the edge of Castiel's wing, smoothing and soothing feathers and frayed nerves.

"Okay?"

Castiel's lips form around an answering question, uncertain of what he's being asked when he feels the cool touch of slick fingers sliding down the crack of his ass. He spreads his thighs wider, muscles straining with the effort of rocking back against the unexpected pleasure. Knuckles brush the back of his drawn up balls and he arches, claws at the carpet as he stretches his wings in search of Dean's expert touch.

"Oh.. " Castiel manages when Dean's fingertip slides, circling and teasing against his hole. It's a new sensation, the associated stroking of Dean's fingers in their rightful place on his wing making it _more_ than okay. He wants to tell Dean that, but with the tip of a finger pressing past the tight clench of muscles, all he can squeak is, "oh, God."

There's an inkling in the back of Castiel's mind that he should be embarrassed by his position, arched and trembling with need on the floor with a human jerking at his feathers and fucking a finger into his ass slowly but surely. But he isn't embarrassed, he's begging in a voice that doesn't sound like his and seems to be coming from across the room. "More" and "hard" and "please, Dean" and "I like that" and "again, more, please, again". 

Dean doesn't sound embarrassed either as he spews filth like a prayer against Cas' sweaty skin. His fingers twist so hard in Castiel's feathers that his wing jerks instinctively to rid itself of the near pain and then Dean is pressing another finger alongside the first, opening Castiel's ass.

"I'm gonna fuck you, Cas. It's gonna feel so good. You want that?"

" _Yes_ ," Castiel replies, a deep ache curling around his tailbone as he struggles for air through the blinding haze of hands that are too rough and not everywhere he needs them to be. His nerves fire in confusion, each pull of feathers sending him spiraling further away from the world he can touch, his cock throbbing as he scrabbles for anything he can hold on to. 

His fingers make contact with a piece of discarded clothing and he holds on like a drowning man to flotsam, wings flared wide as he shoves himself back onto Dean's fingers, needing every inch. His ass clenches around Dean's fingers as they twist and push and stretch him wider, sending his powerful wings half flapping with need, a cry breaking from his throat.

"Now! Now, please."

Dean's growl is animal, dangerous and Castiel doesn't understand why he is pulling his fingers away, a slow drag over exposed nerves that makes Castiel whine because it all felt so good and no, this is not what he asked for.

"You sure it's okay?"

"Yes. Yes, _now_.."

Castiel's urgent hiss is all it takes. The press of the thick, lube-slicked head of Dean's cock against his ass is exquisite and Castiel's cock twitches, a thick glob of precome slicking his belly. Dean whispers something about breathing deep but Castiel's lungs are filled with cement and he loses the thought as soon as it comes to him because Dean is stroking his wing so gently with a trembling hand as he pushes slowly, slowly into Castiel's ass. The guttural moan from Castiel's chest is painful in his too tight throat and Dean's hips jerk forward in response, forcing another cry of pleasure from them both.

"I'm trying to.. trying.."

Dean's voice is through clenched teeth and Castiel doesn't care what he's _trying_ ,so he reaches back and curls his fingers around Dean's thigh to pull him closer. Dean takes the hint and arches forward, burying his cock in Castiel's ass. He stops, his now free hand finding Castiel's other wing with slick fingers sliding through quivering feathers until he can pull both wings back tight, leverage for the thrusts that start out slow.

Castiel jerks his wings forward to feel Dean's fingers tighten and twist, moans when a feather tears free. Dean adjusts his grip, grabs a thicker handful of the soft feathers even as his nails brush against the skin beneath. He leans forward, breath hot in the space over Castiel's spine as he fucks him in earnest. His tongue at the base of Cas' wing sends waves of pleasure shooting straight to the pit of Castiel's stomach and he's left whimpering again, puffs of ragged breath punctuating each thrust of Dean's hips.

"Dean.."

He has to say something and it's all he can think of. "Dean", reverent, and " _Dean_ , please" and it serves to spur him to pound into Castiel, whatever he was trying to do seemingly forgotten. Castiel gives up on coherence, crying out to mix with the sound of sweaty skin slapping on skin and Dean's grunts and growls and the sound of wing's tips beating the air and hearts pounding and harsh breath.

Castiel never knows what hits him when a hand that was in his feathers is suddenly ghosting his hip, pressing against his sweaty, precome-slick stomach, wrapping in a loose fist around his cock. He feels Dean's cock go rigid and swell, thrusts erratic and savage as the fist around his shaft slides and twists and Castiel falls over an edge he didn't even realize he was close to. His body convulses, wings beating frantically as hot come splashes up his stomach and down his thigh. He's panting and whispering fervently, an Enochian blessing or maybe a curse or maybe it's nonsense in any language.

"Yeah, Cas. Yeah, I gotcha." Dean's whispered, trembling voice is the only thing Castiel can find in this moment, the only thing he has to cling to, "God, yes, like _that_."

Castiel feels like his bones are melting, the fire and ache in his belly released so he can finally breathe as Dean's cock jerks in his ass ahead of the lewd feel of him fucking his come in deeper and deeper and the sound of curses and praise as Dean yanks at his feathers so hard he sees stars. He pulls his wing away, shaking it to rid himself of the lingering throb of leaving a few feathers behind. Unable to hold himself up anymore, he pitches forward, his cheek scraping against the carpet as he gasps for much-needed oxygen and moans, his mind awhirl with half-formed thoughts.

The weight of Dean's body collapsing on top of his is pleasant even if it pins his wings uncomfortably against his back. Dean's warm, panted breath and cheek nuzzling against his feathers is the most amazing thing he thinks he's ever felt. Dean's fingers stroking lazily against his side make him squirm and sigh and never, ever want to move again.

"You all right?"

It takes a moment for the question to reach Castiel's brain, another moment for him to formulate an answer and get his mouth to deliver it. He licks his dry lips and croaks; it isn't eloquent, but it will do.

"Uh-huh."

Dean shifts but Castiel is still unwilling to move except to shake his wings out again in an effort to turn the disheveled feathers back the way they belong. The effort is fruitless, so he stretches them instead, lifting them high. Dean takes the opportunity to slip under his right wing, hand coming to rest warm and sweaty on the small of Castiel's back. His voice is lazy, thick with a mischievous drawl when it reaches Castiel's ears.

"Want me to fix those feathers for you?"


End file.
